


Knight and Lady

by youjik33



Category: Night at the Museum (Movies)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-18
Updated: 2017-12-18
Packaged: 2019-02-16 10:40:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13052343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youjik33/pseuds/youjik33
Summary: Tilly's job has gotten a lot more interesting lately, but it would be even better if she had a sword. She even knows a swordsman who would probably be a great instructor... if only she can get him over his annoyingly old-fashioned views on gender roles.





	Knight and Lady

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DesertScribe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DesertScribe/gifts).



"How about one of those?" Tilly asked. "I think I'd look a lot more intimidating with a big pointy spear."

"It's called a _qiang_ and it's over a thousand years old," Ahkmenrah said. "It might just crumble if you tried to hit anything with it. Besides, you don't need a spear to be intimidating. Larry never did."

He'd said that, or something like it, every night in the month since he'd come to the British Museum. Tilly didn't bother trying not to roll her eyes. "I'm not Larry," she said, as she always did. "I've got my own spin. My own flair. And maybe a big pointy spear would fit into that. I'm cultivating my aesthetic."

Tilly probably didn't really need a weapon, and she was, truth be told, well aware of that. She'd heard all about Larry's tumultuous first nights, both from Ahkmenrah and Larry himself, via email. And it wasn't as though she didn't appreciate how helpful Larry had been; she liked him a lot, actually, now that she understood why he had lied to her and locked her up back when they first met. But sometimes she kind of resented the way Ahkmenrah talked about him so reverently. Larry, who never had a sword, but defeated all his problems using things like his wits and, apparently, a flashlight. Her own learning curve had gone much more smoothly. She'd already set up nightly activities for the exhibits – movie and TV showings in the auditorium had proven popular, and while she did enjoy walking the halls with Akhmenrah, there usually wasn't much actually going on, now that she was used to seeing statues meandering about and taxidermied birds flying overhead. They paused at the auditorium doors; the show seemed to be starting up smoothly.

"Maybe I just need a hobby," she said after a moment. "This job seemed crazy, at first. But you're in control of the recharged tablet, and everything's pretty much calmed down now that everyone's got a routine locked down. I mean, look at your folks." She gestured toward the front row of the auditorium, where Merenkahre and Shepseheret had settled in with a bowl of popcorn to catch up on episodes of _Coronation Street_.

"They do love their stories," Ahkmenrah mused fondly. "You could join them, you know."

Tilly stopped a moment to watch them. "I don't know," she said. "It's a little intimidating, hanging around with royalty. I mean, I know technically you're royalty too, but you have big puppy eyes, they make you more approachable. Besides, I haven't watched Corrie since Tracy Barlow went to prison." They continued strolling along the galleries, toward cases and cases of Anglo-Saxon weaponry. "Maybe a sword," Tilly mused. "Some of these look like they're in good shape. I could take lessons. We do have one of the most famously skilled swordsmen in all history, or legend, or whatever, right here at the museum."

Ahkmenrah turned, and Tilly followed his gaze to where Lancelot stood just outside the auditorium doors, tossing popcorn into the air and trying – and, for the most part, failing – to catch it in his mouth. A change came over Ahkmenrah's face as Tilly watched him, his puppydog eyes shining and his mouth turning up in a wide smile. "Brilliant," he breathed.

"Wait, you actually want me to take swordfighting lessons? You were so against the spear."

"I wasn't _against_ the spear," he insisted. "I was against you carrying around a fragile ancient artifact, or feeling like you _need_ a spear. But you want a hobby, and let's be honest. He needs one too, desperately."

"That's a good point," Tilly mused. It wasn't exactly a secret that Lancelot had nearly doomed them all before they'd even really gotten a chance to enjoy their new lives, and the other museum exhibits tended to be just a little standoffish with him. He didn't say as much, but she thought he seemed a little lonely. She was sure he'd be happy to have something like sword lessons to occupy his nights.

 

\-----------------

 

"Don't be ridiculous," Lancelot said with a scoff.

"Excuse me?" Tilly was taken aback.

"Even if I could teach you – and I probably could; I've never tried to teach anyone before but I'm sure I'd be very good at it – you're a lady. And ladies don't use swords, that's preposterous."

"Excuse me, Sir Chauvinist, but this is the 21st century. Women take sword lessons, are elected world leaders, and win American Ninja Warrior. Anyway, I'm basically your boss, in case you'd forgotten."

'You are?" Lancelot blinked owlishly, looking over Tilly's shoulder to Ahkmenrah, who lurked against the wall, trying not to eavesdrop. "I thought he was. He's the one in charge of the tablet."

"That tablet wouldn't do a thing if I were to switch it off some evening before sunset, would it? You're all entirely at my mercy." That last bit came out with just a little more fire than she had intended, but she didn't back down.

"We do owe you much," Lancelot condeded. "But, my lady, I don't know if I can just ignore everything I've ever believed--"

"I take it your Guinevere wasn't a muddy Keira Knightley," Tilly grumbled. "And have you seen those freizes in the Greek wing, of the Amazon warriors? We can go look at them again right now, if you want."

"The Amazons were an ancient warlike race," Lancelot said. "By my era, women had grown more refined. And surely you haven't completely gone backwards since then."

"Backwards!" Tilly said, throwing her hands in the air. "We can actually vote now, do you think that's also going backwards?"

Ahkmenrah gave up any pretense of staying out of it, stepping forward to rest a hand on Tilly's arm. "I understand your frustration," he murmured. "But remember, Lancelot's only had a few weeks to come to grips of the reality of his entire existence. I'm sure he'll come around eventually, but maybe instead of trying to force it, we should just be patient and do a little gentle prodding."

"Gentle prodding my arse," she said, and got a little thrill of satisfaction when Lancelot's eyes widened. "Maybe you don't remember what happened back when the tablet first came here, but I just about thwarted a robbery with my own two hands. Took a hostage and everything."

"And then you yourself were captured, were you not?" Lancelot asked.

"Well, yes," she conceded. "But only because I was outnumbered and armed only with a hammer. And one of the guys I was up against was Attila the Hun, come on. If I'd had a sword things would've gone a lot differently, so really, you're just proving my point."

Lancelot thought for a moment. "Maybe if I can manage to stop thinking of you as a woman," he said. "Have you maybe got a fake mustache you could wear? A pair of trousers?"

"Argh, never mind," Tilly said. "Maybe this isn't worth it."

 

\-----------------

 

The next evening, though, having given herself a little distance, a good rest, and some time to think it over, Tilly had a plan. She might, eventually, be able to chip away at Lancelot's backwards views on women, but for now, maybe it would be enough just to change his views on her. She got the ball rolling just before her shift started, and by the time the sun slid below the horizon and the first signs of life stirred in the museum's halls, she was ready.

She had given herself time to get into position right in front of Lancelot, so that when he woke he'd see her first, standing in what she hoped was an intimidating pose, arms crossed, a piercing gaze fixed directly on him. (She'd practiced the gaze in the mirror earlier, and was ultimately pleased with it.)

He sighed as he flipped the front of his helmet up. "What?"

"Is that any way to greet a lady?" she said coolly.

"I apologize, my lady," he said with a half-bow. "If I'm not mistaken, you look as though you wish to ask a favor of me."

"Not a favor," she said. "A challenge." She tossed a glove at his feet. It was just an old red knit winter glove, salt-stained and somewhat discolored, but she assumed it got the point across.

"My lady, I can't--"

"You can," she said. " _I'm_ challenging _you_ , and if you don't accept I'm going to assume it's because you're a coward who's afraid of losing to a woman."

He bristled at that; he couldn't help himself. It made her smile. "Come on," she said, turning on her heel and not giving him a chance to argue.

By the time they reached the break room, they had a small retinue of curious onlookers. The garuda, a couple of one-armed marble Greek ladies, a golden ram, and a group of surprisingly well-behaved Viking warriors all lingered around the door to watch, and she wasn't surprised when Ahkmenrah hurried in a moment later, looking concerned. Good. She wanted an audience.

"Take a seat, please, Sir Knight," she said. A plastic bag lay waiting on the counter, and she pulled the waiting styrofoam containers free while the watching crowd murmured in hushed excitement.

"Good Lord," Lancelot exclaimed. "What is that smell?"

"That," Tilly said, placing one styrofoam container in front of Lancelot, and the other in the empty space across from him, "is King Curry's Extra Hot Special." She dropped a plastic fork and a stack of napkins on top of his container. "They have a challenge, in the restaurant. If you order one of these and finish the entire order in 30 minutes, without getting up from the table or having anything to drink, you get it free. They also give you a special plaque and put your picture on the wall of the restaurant."

With a flourish, Tilly pulled a shiny gold plaque out from under the empty plastic bag. "I earned this two years ago. My picture still adorns the wall of King Curry, along with the mere handful of visitors who have successfully completed the challenge." She pulled an egg timer from one of the break room drawers, and set it in the middle of the table.

"30 minutes," she said again, turning the timer and holding it in place. "No getting up. No getting a drink. No stopping. Time begins now."

The timer immediately began its inexorable ticking. Tilly sat, picked up her fork, flipped open the styrofoam lid, and shoveled a bite of curry into her mouth. There was no need to hurry, she knew. She'd done this before. Steady, even pacing was the key to success.

"But-- wait, I--" Lancelot spluttered from across the table. She ignored him, focused on her task. Her eyes were already watering from the spice, but she ignored it. A second later, she heard a flurry of movement as he tore his helmet off and dove into his own helping.

Tilly started on one side of the container, eating her way entirely to the bottom before moving on. It was a good motivator, being able to see the white of the container bottom revealing itself more and more as she went. By the time it was half-empty the crowd had swelled, filling up the tiny break room and the hall beyond. She could hear people murmuring about their progress, passing information back through the halls to those too far away to see what was going on.

There was snot running down her nose by the time she reached the final quarter of curry, and she was forced to briefly stop and blow it into a napkin. Very ladylike, she thought to herself, dropping the napkin and forcing herself to keep her eyes off the timer. Just a few bites left. Her lips tingled, and she couldn't even feel her tongue any more, but she kept on. One bite, chew, swallow. One more. And then, unbelievably, there was a single bite left, just a little bit of rice and sauce. She shoved it into her mouth, chewed, swallowed, and looked down at an empty container, while the timer ticked on.

A hush fell over the crowd as she laid her fork down and closed the container, and then it erupted in a cheer. Lancelot looked up from his own curry in shock, beard streaked with sauce, face red and blotchy, eyes streaming with water. Rather than concede, the cheers seemed to spur him on, shoveling food into his mouth faster and faster until suddenly the shrill bell of the timer split the air.

"I..." He looked at her, at the timer, at the food in front of him. "I failed?"

Tilly stood, slowly. She wasn't entirely sure her bowels were going to hold out on her, but she managed to maintain her composure. There were two bottles of milk in the break room refrigerator, and she put one on the table in front of Lancelot. "Don't be ashamed," she said. "It looks like you only had a few bites left. And you never gave up. Most people don't get that far."

The milk was cold and instantly soothing to her burning mouth. Gradually, the watching crowd began to disburse.

"Congratulations, Tilly," Ahkmenrah said, offering his hand for her to shake. "And congratulations, Lancelot, on putting up a very noble fight."

Lancelot drained the rest of his milk and wiped his mouth with a napkin before accepting Ahkmenrah's hand. "Thank you," he muttered, but he definitely seemed dejected. "Lady Tilly, I apologize. I underestimated your strength and your bravery. If you still wish to learn to fight, I vow to teach you to the best of my ability."

"That's better," she said. "But, look. You really shouldn't feel bad about losing. I meant it when I said most people do. King Curry has a whole wall of people who tried the challenge and failed, too. Ahk, hey, can you do both of us a favor, and make sure that the stories going around about this contest keep that part clear?"

"Absolutely," Ahkmenrah said with a nod before departing.

Tilly tossed the curry containers into the trash and sagged into the chair opposite Lancelot. "Probably shouldn't try training of any kind today. I might actually explode."

He managed a small smile, but it didn't quite reach his eyes, and she sighed.

"I wanted to make you feel better, not emasculate you," she said.

"I have no idea what that word means," he replied.

"Ahkmenrah thought you seemed down lately, and he's right. I mean, I'm not joking about wanting to learn how to use a sword. I really, really want how to use a sword. But I also thought it might be good for you to have some direction in your life, instead of just moping around looking sad."

"Do I do that?" he said in surprise. "No, I suppose I do. But it's... difficult." He shifted in his seat, looking uncomfortable. Tilly hoped it was emotional discomfort and not intestinal distress brought on by the food. But after a moment, Lancelot pulled something out of his sleeve. A white handkerchief, delicately embroidered. He looked at it, fingers running gently over its embroidered edges, before looking up at her. "I don't know if you can understand," he said. "But it's very difficult, to love someone you know you can never see again. Someone who might technically not even exist."

Tilly was so taken aback she literally moved back, the metal chair scraping against the break room's linoleum. Lancelot's eyes were a bright, intense blue, and for a moment they reminded Tilly of someone else, someone who, as far as she knew, was at the moment nothing more than a plastic mannequin posed in a diorama halfway across the world.

"Actually," she said, "I think I understand completely."

Tomorrow, she thought to herself, they'd get started on basic training, and if he was still reluctant, then the next night she'd start bringing him feminist discourse and maybe try to talk the museum director into getting a statue of Boudica. But there was an opportunity here, a chance to bond over a bit of unexpected common ground. Tonight, Tilly decided, she'd go ahead and embrace her stereotypically feminine side, and talk about her feelings.


End file.
